Superiority
by patterningthewalls
Summary: Enter the mind of Edward Nigma, who according to himself is the most superior being in Gotham City. His intelligence is questioned when a girl steps into the picture. When a deal is made between him and the notorious Jonathan Crane, what will become of the girl in question?
1. Chapter 1

Out of all of the annoying sounds that I've heard in my lifetime, a muffled scolding tone of a man through paper thin walls just might be the worst. I'm not sure what's worse about it – not knowing when he'll give it a rest, or how long it takes before you're next. There are a few signs. If after he stops speaking you hear disappating footsteps, he's given up. If the footsteps increase in volume, you're next.

At this point, the incoherent lecture was still going on. I didn't bother to decipher the pieces of words that I could understand. It wasn't my buisness to know, and it was probably something insignificant anyway. I leaned my back against the wall behind me, staring blankly at the glass wall. The voice stopped. The distance of footsteps that followed were indistinguishable at first, but soon enough, they were without a doubt getting louder.

The unscuffed shoe of the guard was the first thing I saw. His movements were rigid, but the shaking light of his flashlight gave away his uneasiness. I chuckled.

The light flashed at my face, causing me to squint in order to see. "What's so funny?" he barked.

"I'm sorry, I can't answer that question," I told him, making sure to give him my most sincere smile. "It's rhetorical. So why should I answer a question with an obvious answer."

"Do you think this is some kind of joke?" The flashlight still wavered.

"Of course not. That's not my specialty. How unfortunate, though. I'm sure given the appropriate time, some quality jokes could be made-"

"If you don't keep your mouth shut I'll –"

"You'll what? Lecture me?" I snickered. I put my hands up in defense. "Oh no, words! How painful and potent your words are, right? Wrong. Anything that spews from your insolent mouth is deflected. They do not apply to the likes of me."

"You have the same right to be here as everyone else," he huffed, the flashlight now shining at his feet.

"Oh, we'll see about that," I smiled. "And if you ever happen to cross my path again, I'll prove myself to you. That's a promise."

He continued to the next cell, the flashlight quivering more than before.

While I had to spend my time here, intimidating newer employees made this misunderstanding worthwhile. While I didn't have the brawn of some, or the menacing appearance of others. No, I had something much better. I had what the others lacked. I had the brains. I didn't need bulging muscles or a sickening smile. I had the power of words. I've found that psychological damage cuts deeper than physical. This was definitely worth using to my advantage. How else would I survive in a place like this?

I did not belong here with these scoundrels, with these_ idiots. _They were here because their plots against whatever cause, their greed for however much money, were flawed. I didn't covet money, I'm not one for spontaneous murder –although I do what I must to make a point-, and most importantly, my plans are not _flawed_. Far from it. I haven't commited a crime. I'm trying to prove a point –myself. I'm trying to get it embedded into the thick skulls of those with power that I am not like _these_ people. I'm more than these people could ever imagine to be. I'm more than what the deranged man who caught a lucky break and foiled my plans could ever dream of becoming.

All it takes is some admittance. Three words: you are right. No, not _were. _Were would imply that I stopped being right, which simply isn't the case. I never stopped being right. All they need to do is realize it. Denial is an awful thing, but not incurable.

Am I persistant? Of course, I have to be. I will get the recognition that I rightfully deserve. I just hope they realize the lengths I'm willing to go to achieve it.

Is it necessary? Probably not. But if they're being unreasonable, drastic measures must be made.

I'm not sure who this city has me mistaken for, but it'll take more than a glamorized revenge seeking man in a leotard and bed sheet to stop me.


	2. Chapter 2

His case was the most peculiar to me. I had the unfortunate experience of interacting with him on more than one occasion. At first his charisma draws you in - quite a popular tactic among the inmates here. Then his behavior and word choice sparks your curiosity. After the initial shock of his presence has passed, he is nothing more than aggravating, over glorified, and dare I say, terrifying.

No, terrifying doesn't belong to the likes of him.

But I digress.

My first encounter with him was upon my commission here. There was copious amounts of laughter coming from his cell. It sent a chill down my spine. There was just something so off putting about his laugh, as if it were enough to kill someone. His ghastly skin reflected much of the light in his cell and his blood red lips were contorted into a permanent smile. I don't think smile is the right word, though. Smile is too pleasant. Pleasant was not at all the feeling I'd associate with his face.

"Why the long face?" he said to me as the guards walked me past him. I looked at my feet. "I could take care of that frown, you know. Put a smile right on that face."

He proceeded to cackle manically. Naturally, I was a bit horrified by the experience with him, but only at first. It didn't take long to realize that his work was not of criminal genius, but of pure luck and stupidity. I figured as much, though. If he were truly that smart, he wouldn't get caught.

my second encounter wasn't really an encounter. It was through one of the doctors that I was being forced to see. She refused to stop babbling on and on about him. She was blinded by curiosity. She had failed to figure him out yet. If the poor girl doesn't stop soon she'll get herself into serious...trouble. Not that I cared for her. I'd just hate to see a bright young mind go to waste.

The day Joker escaped was arguably my favorite day in a long time. However, I'm getting ahead of myself. I can't spoil the best parts, now can I?

The next few weeks of my "therapy" consisted of more compassionate rambles of that clown. This time she'd even given him a new name, much to my discomfort. I didn't entirely mind, though. The less I had to talk about my nonexistant problems, the better.


	3. Chapter 3

There were rumors of a visitor -someone interested in a job, I assumed. I didn't really pay much attention to it, for what importance was it to me? None.

There was a voice on the intercom system, though the words were incomprehensible. There was a crash followed by manic chuckling.

"Let's get this show on the road, boys!"

My heart seemed to both sink and rise. The Joker's escape would either lead to great things for me, or quite the opposite. However I was sure that this was my chance.

I jumped as I saw a slim figure scurry past my cell. Given his fragile appearance, it was no doubt that it was Jonathan Crane, or as he proudly called himself, The Scarecrow. I'd heard that he was anticipating the visitor's arrival. As long as he kept his dreadful toxin away from me, I didn't care what he did with it.

I heard a scream. Overcome with curiosity, I leapt out of my seat. A young girl darted towards my cell, tears streaming down her face. A hyperventilating mess, she was surely the Scarecrow's latest victim. I didn't intend on showing her any pity, but surely some more experimentation couldn't hurt her.

"It's not real," I noted to her. She fell to the floor and gave me a puzzled look. She began swatting at non existant things in the air. I sighed. "Whatever you're seeing isn't real. Just give it a minute or two."

I wasn't in the mood for helping others. Actually, I hardly ever was in that particular mood. It was just rather pathetic and uncomfortable to see someone in this state. Still, she appeared to be calming down.

"You surprised me," I said. "I didn't think the rumors were true."

"Thank you?" she said. I stepped closer to the glass wall of my cell.

"It's a shame for such a pretty face to be in such a feeble state," I smirked. I saw a hint of red appear on her cheeks.

"You don't compliment people very often, do you," she said as she brushed herself off.

"To be honest, no, I don't."

"There must be something you want from me," she said bluntly.

"Ah, so you're smarter than you look," I beamed.

"WHat do you want," she said, ignoring my statement.

"Let me out of here,"

"I can't do that," she sighed. "You're in here for a reason, aren't you?"

"Maybe it was a mistake."

"Highly unlikely," she rolled her eyes.

"Fine, don't help me. Exit's on the left."

"it's too dark," she called.

"There's two switches. It's the one to your right."

She approached the two switches but didn't use the one I had told her to, just as I had anticipated. She flipped the left one.

"Smart girl," I grinned. When nothing happened, she flipped it again and again, growing more confused with each flip. My cell no longer restricting me, I walked up behind her and lightly tugged at her arm.

"Smart, but so predictable." I said into her ear.

"You know, you don't look like a criminal," she said softly. "What did you do?"

"Now that's not just something I'd tell someone. I barely know you."

"What about that scarecrow?"

"Jonathan, "I corrected her.

"And who are you?"

I sighed. "My apologies. The name's Edward Nigma, but most people know me as The Riddler," I bowed to her. "I'd ask for your name, but I must get going. But no worries, I'll find you."


	4. Chapter 4

I had business to take care of, none of which required interacting with that feeble little girl. What this business was, I couldn't tell you at the moment, for I didn't know it myself. First order of business, however, was to get out of here.

I roamed the halls for quite a while, trying to recall the pathways and locations of the exits. This wasn't exactly easy given the former security of the building. Nevertheless, I was determined to get out. I was cautious about coming into contact with any of the inmates. I'm not what you would consider any stronger than the average man...physically, of course. I wouldn't want any altercations happening anytime soon. I wasn't in the mood, nor in the physical condition. The only ones I was really concerned about were the brutes like Croc or Bane. Perhaps even the Joker struck a bit of fear in me, but he tends to have that effect on people.

I pondered my plans of escape for quite some time. I was one to over think situations, as I've been told. I'm not sure how someone could over think something, though. Thinking wasn't all that bad if you know how to do it productively.

I was interrupted by a squeal.

"Eddie!" The shrill voice belonged to none other than Harleen Quinzel- or Harley Quinn, as she liked to be called. She looked awfully disgruntled. Her pigtails were undoing and her eyeliner was running down her cheeks. I clenched my fists a bit, preparing myself for whatever she had to say.

"What is it, Harley?" I tried to muster up my most sincere voice.

"Have you seen him?" she asked in a desperate tone of voice.

"I'm going to assume the him is Joker, correct?" I asked her. She nodded. "No, I'm afraid I haven't seen him."

"I'm worried sick. I don't know where he is."

"Harley," I sighed, "I can't help you there. I'm sure he'll be fine on his own. He's a pretty formidable guy, after all.

She pouted, but continued on her way. I didn't care which way that was as long as it was far away from me. It was time to refocus on what I was doing. I passed by many cells on my way around the asylum, all of them empty. It would normally be unsettling for someone to see such a sight, but I was one of the ones behind the cell walls. I was grateful, if anything, but mostly indifferent.

I thought I saw movement in one of the cells I had passed. I ignored this, figuring it was just a result of my paranoia. Even if there was someone, it was probably just an imbecile who was too below me to even consider threatening me.

"You shouldn't be so arrogant, you know." I heard someone say.

"Arrogant?" I chuckled. "No, I wouldn't call it that, Jonathan."

"How informal of you. Please call me Dr. Crane," he said, emerging from the shadows of a cell. His body was sickly thin, cheekbones protruding from his face. Unkempt hair fell just above his shoulders.

"No thank you, Jonathan," I smirked. "Besides, I thought you went by something different now."

"It depends on my mood," he shrugged.

"What do you want?" I asked. I made sure to look him directly in the eyes.

"The girl...where did she go?" His voice had an odd sense of craze to it. It was dripping with yearning.

"I'm not helping you with any experiments."

"I'm not asking for your input. I'm asking where she went," he raised his voice slightly.

"Even if I did know, I wouldn't tell you," I said.

"I need to know, damn it," he shouted at me.

"Why are you so interested in her. Couldn't you just pick someone else?"

"Are you volunteering?" he let a smile crawl on his face.

"Quite the contrary." I cleared my throat. "I just don't see why you'd be interested in her."

"Her fear..." he whispered. "I don't know it yet. I've yet to figure it out. I have to know."

"See, I don't know why they say I belong in here when there's lunatics like yourself roaming around freely," I snapped. I probably shouldn't have insulted him like that, but frankly I didn't care. It was insulting to think the staff thought I was on the same level as him. Jonathan was smart, no doubt, but he had a terrible weakness-his sanity, or lack thereof.

"It's a shame you think that lowly of me, Edward," he shook his head, stepping closer to me. "Perhaps I should show you what I do to those who underestimate me..."

"Now, don't do anything irrational, Jonathan," I put my hands up in defense. "I was just stating a fact."

The door in front of us opened, revealing the girl from earlier, hunched over and panting. When she looked up to see Jonathan, her eyes showed a look of pure terror. He, of couse, promptly smiled to this.

"Ah, just the girl I was looking for," he said with a toothy grin. The girl began to back up. She started looking to me for help, but I shook my head.

"Not this time, my dear," I said. "You are not my responsibility."

I walked towards the door. I put my fingers under her chin and lifted her face so she would look me in the eye.

"I thought..." she stammered.

"You thought wrong," I stated. "But that's to be expected of you. Jonathan?"

"Yes?"

"Good luck with this one. Don't do anything too damaging, alright? She might be of use to me when you're finished," I said, dropping my fingers from her face. I walked out the door.

I sat at my desk, finally free from the bounds of the asylum. While my stay wasn't all that awful, their attempts at therapy were pathetic.

"When do you think this superiority complex started?" the doctor had asked me.

"When I realized that everyone around me was weak minded and intolerable," I had answered.

"That's not a proper answer, Mr. Nigma,"

"Then ask a proper question. You bore me."

Their attempts at therapy were easily laughed at. If anything, I became the therapist.

"Then what would you like to talk about?"

"Interesting question, doctor," I smiled. "I'd like to talk about you. How's the family doing? Is your daughter doing well?"

"How could you possibly know about my family?" she seemed appalled.

"I overhear things. Also you have a photo of your family in your office that I saw on the way here. I pay close attention to the little details."

"I don't feel comfortable-"

"Now, why is that? Is it because I brought up something personal? Well how do you think I feel when you ask me such personal questions? Surely you must understand that I do not want to answer these questions nor do I need to. These questions are for those worthy of being in here and I am not one of those people." I slammed my hand against the table between me and the doctor.

I wasn't exactly a cooperative patient, but why should I have been? I didn't belong there. The doctors insisted that I needed the help, but what did they know? They just didn't recognize my intellect. They didn't know how to handle someone superior to them in every aspect.

But I shouldn't be reminesing. I should be focusing on my plans to stop the Batman, the only person who I truly care about being superior to. All the rest can remain foolish, but I will not accept defeat to him. He will realize my power, and if that means there must be bloodshed, then so be it.

My plans, however, require a collaboration among some of the other rogues of Gotham City. One in particular is Jonathan Crane. I needed his fear toxin to get to the Batman's weakness. I wasn't looking forward to interacting with Crane. The few conversation I did have with him were tiring and maybe even a little frightening. I'd never admit the latter to him.

Either way, it was time to pay Jonathan a visit.


	5. Chapter 5

Jonathan and I were not friends.

We were on good terms, maybe, but never would I ever consider us to be _friends._ I was not one for making friends. I had partners and aquaintances, but never friends. Even my aquaintances were kept at a safe distance. Friends were not needed in my line of business. Was it lonely? I suppose so, but I was always a man of solitude.

Unlike myself, Jonathan had one main place that he would conduct his experiments at. Always thinking ahead, I had several places where I do my work. And Crane wonders why he ends up in Arkham for so often.

He wasn't always an inmate, though. It's such a shame that such a promising young mind would turn into this pile of delusions. Nevertheless, what was done was done. I couldn't bring the old Jonathan back just as much as the doctors at Arkham couldn't. Still, there was some potential in whatever thoughts were consuming the poor man's mind. Which is exactly why I had chosen him of all people to be my temporary...business partner.

"Jonathan?" I asked at the door. It was attatched to a worn out shed of sorts, every inch of the building either rusty or black. Even I was a bit discomforted by his place's appearance, despite not being easily scared by such things. I waited a good minute or two before knocking. "Jonathan?"

"Can't you tell that I'm busy?" he hissed from somewhere in the shed.

"Jonathan, I have some important matters to discuss," I said, ignoring his previous statement.

"It can't be more important than what I'm doing now," he growled I sighed, trying to keep what little patience I had.

I heard a scream from the inside. So that's what he was doing. It would be nearly impossible to distract him from his work at this point. He was so fascinated with people's fear response, there was nothing I could do. Unless...

"It's about the Batman," I started to grin. I heard some fumbling and clinking of glass.

"The...the batman?" I heard. Footsteps pounded their way to the door. It opened, leaving me face to face with the mad doctor. "What about the Batman?"

"Oh, nothing you'd be interested in. Just something that requires you to find out what he's afraid of," I said with a sigh.

"A tempting offer, really, but as you can see," he moved out of the way and motioned toward the inside of the shed, "I'm really busy."

There were shelves and shelves of test tubes and books and papers. In the back of the shed there was a chair. Restrained to it was none other than that girl. I made sure to smile at her.

"Nice seeing you again. Funny we keep running into eachother, isn't it?"

"Let me out of here," she screamed.

"Oh I can't do that," I chuckled. "Jonathan isn't done with you."

"But you said I could be of some use to you, right?" she asked, trying to squirm out of her restraints. I walked in and I began circling around her chair.

"Hm...I suppose you do have a point," I noted. "Jonathan?"

"Yes, Edward?" he sounded eager for me to leave. I ignored this.

"Would you mind if you handed her over to me?" I asked, pointing towards her and then to myself.

"Now why on earth would I do that?" he said, appalled.

"Because I want to use her while her mind is still in tact. After I'm finished, I _promise_ you can do whatever you want with the girl." I reasoned. He pondered this for a few minutes. There was a lot of tension in the air and I could practically cut it with a knife. If I could get my hands on this girl, my job would become a lot easier. Especially now that my former employees abandoned me..

"Alright, I'll agree to your little offer. As long as I get the girl in the end," he said. I smiled.

"I knew you'd be reasonable with this," I said. I began undoing the restraints, the girl moving eagererly against them. "Relax," I told her. "The more you move the harder it'll be to get you out of them."

"Fine," she huffed, slumping back in her seat. When she was all free, she leapt up from her seat and latched onto my arm. I shooed her away.

"Let's get going," I stated. "Thank you, Jonathan."

"Believe me, the pleasure will be all mine,"

The girl began latching onto my arm again about halway back. I shooed her away again and noticed her pouting.

"Now, now, don't get too attatched," I said to her. "I know I'm a very alluring man, but remember that I'm only using you for a short amount of time. You're going right back to Jonathan after."

"But you had to have at least wanted to save me," she crossed her arms.

"Perposterous!" I exclaimed. "I feel pity for no one. Especially not for little girls."

"I'm not little," she groaned.

"You look little," I shrugged. I stopped walking. "I'm sorry, how rude of me, I never did get your name."

"Luna," she said shyly.

"Luna? No last name?"

"Not going to give you that much information about myself," she said.

"Smart girl," I smirked. "But I'll find you somehow. I always do."

"Isn't that a little creepy, though?"

"Not in the slightest. It's just me using my intelligence and deductive reasoning to figure out someone's personal information. For instance, you're afraid of me."

"I am not," she protested.

"Of course you are. You're biting at your fingers. That's a dead giveaway, my dear," I said.

"So many terms of endearment with you," she noted.

"They're all condescending...sweetheart," I smiled at her. "Believe me, I'm not one for emotional attatchement. So get any romanticized ideas of me out of your head right now. "

"Believe me, I didn't have any," Luna snickered. I was insulted.

"Well of course you must've had some, it's me, after all."

"Nope, none."

"We'll see about that."


End file.
